


You're A Classic (Little (Pink) Dress)

by VanillaIcing



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Belly Kink, Crossdressing, Food Kink, Food Play, M/M, Mild humiliation kink, Stuffing, can I pray for redemption or is it too late, here we go again, stuffing kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-15
Updated: 2017-10-15
Packaged: 2019-01-17 13:36:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12366879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VanillaIcing/pseuds/VanillaIcing
Summary: This is just one of those situations that makes you think "wow, if someone told me five years ago that this would be happening right now, I wouldn't have believed them".More specifically, that's what Patrick's currently thinking, laying across the couch backstage at a venue in some city he's long since forgotten the name of, wearing a creamy coral pink dress with a skirt that always twirls around his legs injustthe right way, as his three wonderful boyfriends feed him snack after snack with no stopping point.





	You're A Classic (Little (Pink) Dress)

**Author's Note:**

> HERE IS THE STANDARD WARNING. THIS FIC CONTAINS STUFFING, CROSSDRESSING, AND OVERALL FUCKING SIN. DONT WANNA SEE IT? CLICK THE FUCK OUT. 
> 
> Anyways! Have I mentioned I hate myself?
> 
> I'm sitting here on my bed with my poor innocent dogs, drinking my second can of soda in an hour for REASONS (which I cannot confirm or deny being related to the content of this fic), and posting THIS fresh hell because an anon on me and my friend's stuffing blog (@stuffedfob on tumblr, shameless self promo, xoxo) asked me to. 
> 
> I hope you appreciate this, anon. I hope you fucking appreciate it.

This is just one of those situations that makes you think "wow, if someone told me five years ago that this would be happening right now, I wouldn't have believed them". 

More specifically, that's what Patrick's currently thinking, laying across the couch backstage at a venue in some city he's long since forgotten the name of, wearing a creamy coral pink dress with a skirt that always twirls around his legs in _just_ the right way, as his three wonderful boyfriends feed him snack after snack with no stopping point. 

Maybe this is too daring, maybe this is _too much_ , but it's not like they care. Sure, they need to go onstage in about fifteen minutes. Sure, though Patrick has worn dresses backstage before—many times, actually—and though they've definitely played this game immediately before a show in the past, the two things have never coincided. But that doesn't mean they can't mess around, does it? Patrick can't pretend he isn't loving this, loving the way what was already a tight dress presses near-uncomfortably against his stomach, which is now achingly full of cupcakes and cookies and whatever other sweet things they could salvage from the store, loving the way he's being peppered with kisses as he's fed another chocolate chip cookie, another brownie, another everything. This is fucking _amazing_.

At least, it's amazing until someone knocks on the door and calls, "You're on in ten!"

"Fuck, okay, we gotta stop," Pete pipes up, even as he pushes one more square of chocolate past Patrick's lips. (Hell, Patrick isn't about to stop him.)

"Yeah, yeah," Patrick mutters, sitting up on the couch and groaning. Exactly how far did they go? He wasn't quite paying attention—why would he be? But now he's back, grounded in reality, and realizing that maybe he's had a little _too_ much, even considering this particular scenario. 

"Here." Joe tosses a wad of clothes at him, and Patrick accepts them gratefully. It's the usual mess he packs in case he's going to wear something... _not stage appropriate_ around before a show—a t-shirt, jeans, and his leather jacket. And he'd even had the forethought to specifically choose a loose shirt tonight, knowing going into the night exactly what they'd be doing. He's kind of proud of himself for that. 

Patrick sets the clothes down and gets to work changing (he doesn't care if he isn't alone, god knows his boyfriends have seen this plenty of times before). Or, more accurately, he gets to work _trying_ to change. 

"Are you okay?" Andy asks, concern heavy in his voice. 

Patrick struggles once more, then shakes his head. "Guys? I'm...uh...I'm stuck."

There's a beat of silence, which Pete suddenly breaks with a loud, "You're _what_?"

"I'm stuck," Patrick repeats weakly, looking pitifully down at his dress, which has definitely become too tight on him to get off. "Holy shit, _how much did I eat_?"

"A lot?" Joe offers unhelpfully, and Patrick groans. 

"Fuck," he hisses out, all too aware that his boyfriends are probably really _into_ his fucking problem. "Someone help me here!"

Joe rushes over first, attempting to help Patrick push the dress off, but failing as well. Fuck, why couldn't Patrick have chosen a dress with a zipper for tonight? He should have thought of this! But he just _really_ likes this one and he didn't think that...well, he didn't think they'd be going _this far_ , but apparently they have. 

"Shit, okay, we can, uh...cut it off?" Pete suggests, wincing as Patrick's face shifts to pure offense. 

"No, we cannot!" he yells, going red with anger that's only slightly unfounded. "This is my favorite dress, Pete! I'm not cutting it!"

"Hey, Patrick, hon, calm down," Andy speaks up, much calmer than Joe and Pete (and Patrick, for that matter), but still obviously a little nerve-wracked. "You've got two options here. You either cut it off, or you just go out wearing it."

Patrick stares down at himself again, debating what to do. He can't go out like this. He can't! Besides the fact that he doesn't want to have to explain away his dress, he also knows just how obvious it is what's happened. This dress was extremely tight even from the beginning, and the clingy fabric makes the unusually large swell of his belly really damn obvious. This was the whole point of having a loose shirt on hand! Anyone who looks at him for more than two seconds will know _something_ is up. He can't possibly risk that. Is his pride really less important than his favorite dress?

Okay, yeah, it is. Patrick _really_ fucking likes this dress. Like, he basically idolizes it. 

But he can't go out in it, not like this, not _now_.

" _Five minutes_!"

The call from outside startles Patrick into action, and he snatches the jacket from his now-useless pile and slides it on. 

"How the hell is that supposed to help?" Pete asks, watching as Patrick gets slowly to his feet and takes a deep breath. 

"I don't know. Contrast?" Patrick shrugs. He isn't sure what he's thinking right now either. He's too...well, too stressed, tired, conflicted, _full_ to think straight right now, and that isn't going to change in the five minutes before he has to go out. He isn't going to come up with a better plan before he's out of time. He's got to deal with this however he can. 

"So you're wearing it?" Andy asks, gesturing to the ridiculously close-fitting dress. 

Patrick bites his lip, knowing this is his last chance to change his mind. They could still get it off—but yeah, by _cutting_ it off, which, besides being destructive, would be kind of fucking humiliating. And _not_ in the hot way. 

Admittedly, the thought of walking onstage in a skintight dress, visibly stuffed to the brim with probably every dessert known to man, is also humiliating. But.. _definitely_ in the hot way this time. 

"I'm wearing it," Patrick finally confirms, a little afraid to elaborate on why exactly he's made this choice. Luckily, no one asks. (Besides, he's pretty sure they know anyways.)

He doesn't make a move to actually go onstage, and finds himself instead being led out in his boyfriends' arms. He takes a deep breath, forcing himself not to look down, not to remind himself exactly how obvious it is what they've been doing. Realistically, no one would guess that all of Fall Out Boy gets off on filling their singer up with an unreasonable amount of food. But the vague fear that someone _will_ figure it out...shit, it's more exciting than Patrick would like to admit. 

Patrick hates to say it, because it sounds so cliche, but the show itself is kind of just a blur. He knows there's some reaction to what he's wearing, knows someone must say something, and he sort of remembers Pete yelling at someone who was being rude, telling them to fuck off, but other than that he was too out of it to register much. He was mostly focused on keeping his guitar poised strategically over his belly, his last resort to cover up any remaining evidence to their shameful crime. And besides, how could he pay attention to anything other than the looks his boyfriends kept sneaking at him? Knowing that he was being watched, that something was obviously going to happen after this show ended...it was the most important thing to him. The thought got him through what would probably be the most embarrassing show of his life. 

Indeed, the second they're backstage, he finds himself surrounded, being accosted by his boyfriends and assaulted with tight hugs and loving kisses and murmurs of "holy fuck, that was amazing, you're amazing, how the hell did you manage that, bet you were scared they'd notice, bet you fucking liked that, didn't you" until the encouraging murmurings get loud and dirty and Patrick is being pressed against the wall by one pair of arms while someone else's lips are on his. 

At some point his eyes had closed, and now that they're open Patrick identifies Joe as the one pushing him to the wall, and Andy as the one he's ended up making out with. Patrick is about to ask where Pete is, but his question is quickly answered when Pete appears with a smirk on his face and half a chocolate bar in hand.

"You never finished this one, and I think after that show you deserve a treat anyway," he says, waving the chocolate enticingly. 

Patrick doesn't protest, doesn't have a reason to. He just stays up against the wall as Andy moves away and Pete steps forward, snapping off a huge chunk of chocolate and pushing it to Patrick's lips. The chocolate must've been left out in the open, because it's all melty, and Patrick can feel it smearing all over his lips as it's pushed past them. He's sure he looks like a fucking mess right now, and he's also sure that his boyfriends are finding that _very_ attractive. 

At some point, as Pete is feeding Patrick more pieces of chocolate in varying sizes, Patrick slides to the ground, and everything shifts so that now his head is resting in Pete's lap as Pete continues to break off the increasingly drippy pieces, and Andy and Joe join them on the floor, one on each side of Patrick. Joe leans in and occasionally kisses Patrick's chocolate-stained lips and follows it with something along the lines of "you're amazing" or "you're so fucking pretty like this, you know that?" or "god, I could just fuck you right now" and all of it is music to Patrick's ears. Meanwhile, Andy has busied himself with rubbing gentle circles in Patrick's way overfilled belly, a kinder counterpart to what he's getting from Joe and Pete. 

Patrick knows, kind of, in the back of his head, that they're still technically in public, lying on the floor of a backstage hallway, where anyone could find them doing this, but honestly? He's too far gone to care. 

"Fuck, I-" Patrick breathes out, pausing obediently to let Pete give him another piece of chocolate, at this point probably purposefully dripping some of the melted treat across Patrick's face. "Fuck," Patrick starts again once he's swallowed it, "I love you guys."

"We love you too, Patrick," Andy tells him softly, with a kind and gentle smile that's the opposite of how the rest of this feels. 

"Yeah," Patrick mumbles distantly, sinking back further into Pete's lap as another melting treat is dangled over his mouth. "I can tell."


End file.
